Kim Jongdae is a man of many words. Words he knows when to use and how to use them. He is, albeit on the short side, a dashing young college graduate and soon to be producer under SM ent. Jongdae has a wonderful future ahead of him. One that he plans to share with Zhang Yixing, the Chinese choreographer of Sm ent.

And me? I am Kim Jongdae. The guy who can't figure out how to tell his boyfriend of two years, four months, five days, twenty-one hours and seventeen minutes how much I love him. Sure, we practically pork every night, we are constantly in physical contact with each other, and are forever more making time in our crazy and hectic lives to spare five minutes in the janitor closet down the last hallway to the end on the far right to have a quickie before we're caught by one of the trainees, who won't say anything because we are trainers and they are the 'ee's. There is a delicate balance betweenthe 'er's and the 'ee's in SM, and no one wants to be the guy that s it up. But, for once in my life I'm so scared to say just three little words. 

I sigh and roll over in our shared queen sized mattress. Yixing is lying face down, his glowing under the city lights of Seoul. I gently trail my finger tips from the base of his neck, slowly following the slope of his spine as it rises then gradually sinks until my finger is playing with the edge of the bed spread that covers him from hips down.

This isn't the first time I've stayed up thinking of ways to tell him how much I love him. Not that he would hear me, per say. You see, five years before I met Yixing, he had gotten terribly ill. In the end the illness had claimed his hearing. But my Xing never let that hold him back from his dreams. 

For several years he had been in physical therapy to help repair some of the damage. He also wears hearing aids when he is composing in our little cracker box of an apartment or when he's dancing. He can now make out different sounds other than heavy bass. It's a long and costly process, but we've been paying it off one paycheck at a time. 

I smile as I think of how strong and beautiful Yixing's spirit is. Just one of the many things that make me love him, that and his hips. They don't lie when he's slamming into me from behind. I swallow the saliva that welled in the back of my throat. I distract myself by turning my attention to Yixing's angelic face. His raven locks are slightly askew from our earlier love session. 

I timidly run my finger tip across his smooth brow and down his straight nose which wrinkles slightly at the ticklish sensation. I stifle my giggle as I gently trace his perfect lips. The ones that will kiss me 'good morning', 'thanks for breakfast', 'time to go', and finally 'see you later'. That doesn't include the little kisses in between. My exploring fingers gradually travel down the toned muscles of his arms that oh so often hold me tenderly, so caring and loving. They travel to his strong hands, they are calloused from years of piano and guitar playing, but they are always warm and my fingers just so happen to slot perfectly between his. 

As fatigue gathers in my eyes and clouds my mind, I find myself tracing my unspeakable words repeatedly on Yixing's broad back, toned from years of dancing. As my eyes begin to close, Yixing's warm body turns and pulls me closer to him.

"I love you, too." He whispers, his breath tickling my ear. Suddenly, my heart felt so light.